Newspaper Page Text
J.A.TI'Rm EDITOR.}
VOLUME I,
INDEPENDENT PRESS.
“ Without Fear, Favor or Affection.”
eatonton, GA.
SATURDAY MORNING. SEPT. 23, 1854.
Secretary • fittrry's l9tenfa
loons.
The New Turk Ttcmli "often amuses
itself over Secretary M a rev's nether
garments, and frequent allusions are
made by the press generally to the
said articles, As some of our readers
probably do not understand the point
of the joke, we here publish Mr. Mar
cv’s letter in regard to his pantaloons,
which w.ll explain the affair. It seems
that when Mr. Marcy was comptroller
of the State ot New York, he frequent
ly would not pay accounts against the
Suite, because they were lumping
charges, not specifying the different
items ol the accounts, lie did tins to
prevent frauds upon the State Treasu
ry. Afterwards, Marcy became one
cf the' judges of his State, and as the
law provided the payment of the
ju lgo s expenses in holding the special
circuit, Judge Marcy kept a very nice
account of every item of expense in
curred by him, in order to do for the
then comptroller of the State what he
bad r.- others to do when he had
tiie nonor of being that officer. It
stems that on account of having sat j
down too much he rubbed a hole in
his pantaloons: Or he might have run 1
against a snag and got them torn.—
Ihe record does not speak upon this ‘
important point, lint at any rate the i
Judge’s breeches had to be mended !
and the tailor charged 50 cents for it ■
—which item, along with other items ;
of expense incurred by the Judge on !
his circuit, went to the State treasury, j
according to law, for payment. The j
newspapers of New York got up a
tremendous merriment over the sub- ;
ject, and Marcy, who was then a State j
Senator a* Albany wrote the subjoin
ed letter. This was twenty-two years
ago. But the lapse of nearly a quar
ter of a century has not sufficed to do
away with the joke about the Hon.
Secretary’s pantaloons. This letter, it
is proper to say, was published in 1845 I
in Boston, along with a good many j
other documents and papers by Wil- j
liam L. McKenzie who professed that i
they came originally from the custom I
house in New York, where they had j
been left by Jesse Hoyt, Esq., custom |
house officer.
Senator Marcy to Jesse JlavL New
Private.] Albany, lGtli Oct., 1882.
My Dear Sir —Your letter of Mon
day evening! received this morning,
and with it a breeze "from the South,
that gives some of our folks a chill.
The opposition pretend to have cer
tain information that Ritner is elected.
Though we do not yield to this be
lief, still we are less confident than we
were yesterday of Wolfe’s Election.
As to the Pantaloons affair , perhaps
lam not the per. on best qualified to
advise.
Though the charge was right in it
self, yet it must be regarded as an, un
fortunate one , because so easily turned
into ridicule.
1 showed your production to Flagg
—he thought it very well, but seemed
to think it was a little too formal. The
enemy will have their laugh, but I
hope it. will not do much mischief.
The true explanation is simply this —
When Comptroller, I bad always
made war on lurnpnng charges, because
I was satisfied many frauds against the
Slate had been perpetrated by them.
"The law provided the payment of
vhc Judge’s expenses in holding the
;Speoial Circuit. 1 kept a particular
recount of them which was handed to
the Comptroller.
While on this business some work
was done on Pantaloons, for which the
Tailor charged Fifty cents ; it was en
tered on the account, but went into the
Comptroller’s hands without a partic
ular reflection how it would appear in
print. -
/ feared no danger for 1 knew no sin.
Jean not advise how it to best to treat
the subject. 1 .
The article in the Argus, headed
iI A very grave affairf is perhaps as luih
■an explanation as the, transaction wIJ
idmit cf ' But .it will be well to eon
lffict it, if much must be said on it,
with the great frauds and peculations
of Holley, Van Tuyl, John V. N.
Yates—(who I believe for loVe of me
writes many ot the scurrilous articles
in our papers,) in appropriating about
SBOO of Peddlers’ License Feesg&c.,
Now as to mg JVar Service?, (f more
Agreeable subject,) I was out two cam
paigns—in Qjn tfte northern Iron*
H- oA»lrrli[ii soiinnt(:-|)ttiotd) to $ itcnrturc, folitirs, anit General Ulisteltoitii.
! tier—belonged to the party which took
' from the enemy at St. Regis the first
stand of colors taken in the late war,
| on land, and the first prisoners (about
! 10 in number.)
These prisoners were in a house built
;o! square Umber. I personally head
led the party that took them—myself
j broke open the house, entered it and
I took from the hands of the soldiers
i their arms, «ke.
I eare not how much this matter is
'inndfiA, Tftiliar tk-'v would let
m y pantaloons alone. I return your
remarks. Yours, Ac.
W. J,. Marcy.
%h(\n.
FOR THE INDEFBXDEKT I’KESS.
(No. 10.)
Oh upbraid not the Bard-
Oh upbraid not the bard, if a tear in his cyo
Should dim for a moment the gladness around,
And breathe no reproach if the shade of a sigh
Mid the light and the mirth of your presence be
found.
If your eye, that is sparkling with love, should re
flect
The memory of hopes that are blasted for aye,
You will blame not a tear for the joys that are
wreck’d,
Nor a sigh for the dreams that have vanished
away.
If a smile on thy face should recall to his mind
The glow of the cheek which ho won for bis
own,
Upbraid not the eye, though to beauty not blind,
Which tells of a heart that is widowed and
lone.
If a word from thy lips should awake in his heart
Vibrations of chords that so long have been still,
You will deem it not strange that it leap with a
start,
That his breast with the throbbings of memory
thrill.
Then upbraid not the bard if a tear in his eyo
Should dim for a moment the gladness around,
And breathe no reproach if the shade of a sigh ,
Mid the light and the mirth of your presence bo
found.
Spring of ’4B. l. l.
% ®aie.
FOR THE INDEPENDENT PKE9B.
1! E N T W 0 L 1):
A TALE OF FLORIDA AND GEORGIA.
' BY T
( Con tin tied .)
CHAPTER. VIIT.
Fitzwarren’strunk came almost im
mediately on the arrival of the party
at the house, and Frank called George
jV j E^nxxra: xA-m J A
room. George came, Lowing and
flourishing in his best style, as Frank
said to him
“George show this gentleman to his
room, and attend to his wishes.”
“Yes sir.”
“And George,” said Henry, “don’t
put blacking on his patent leathers, if
he should hand them out to you to
clean.”
“Mars Harry,” answered George,
evidently much taken- aback. “Mars
Henry, what makes you desagerate dat
little mistake so much? You are al
ways trying to throw some ’spersions
on my character.”
“You can’t deny that you did put
blacking on that officer’s patent-leath
ers, when became over from the bar
racks and spent the night.”
“You’ll make dis here gentmun
fraid to trust me to wait on him,” said
George, “i’ll tell how it was, sir,”
lie continued, turning to Fitzwarren.
“Cap’ll Hunter give me out his boots
one night in de dark and told me to
clean ’em, and didn’t tell me dey were
made of patent leather, and I blacked
em just a little —before Dave brought
me a light. He was slow after I. told
him to bring me a light. ’Twas his
fault. Aint, dis de true restruction of
de circumstance mars Frank ?”
“I believe so,” said Frank.
“You hear dat mars Henry ?” said
George, triumphantly. And then ta
king up a light, while Harry stood
laughing at him, he approached Fitz
warren with his politest bow and “beg
ged to have the honor of reporting him
’to his retirement.”
“The supper bell will ring in twen
ty-five or thirty minutes,” said Frank,
as Fitzwarren followed the darky off.”
“And Mr. Fitzwarren,” said Harry,
“better watch your patent-leathers,
while George has his blacking about.”
To this last sally George 1 turned to
EATONTON, GA., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1854.
lepl v, but seemed to think better of it
anti kept on in silent disgust, lie led
llte way to a broad stairway, up which
he took his course. Arrived at the
landing, lie turned square to Ids' left
and continued his way past several
doors, til lie arrived at the last one on
that entry. _ Into this he conducted
the guest, where he found his trunk,
i ke. After .shut ting 1] i c door, the nc
jgro opened a closet and showed him a
bath, with towels and everything nc
| cessary, for a bath and a toilet -after
ward. He then went out, remind
ing bitzwarren teat lie would remain
within the sound of the bell. The
luxury of the bath was indulged in as
long a time as he could spare, so as
to leave enough of thirty minutes, in
which to make his toilet. This last
completed only a moment, when the
bell rang for supper. Fitzwarren des
cended the stairs and proceeded to
the drawing room, where he found the
family assembled. lie offered his arm
to Helen and they proceeded to the
supper.
But little conversation had passed be
fore Frank exclaimed abruptly,
“I have never yet told you all how
b got acquainted with Mr. Fitzwarren.
I wil! now tell you of the service he
rendered inc.”
“Better let it pass, I think Mr. Bent
ley,” said Fitzwarren.
“Oh I cannot,” answered Frank.—
“Never mind, I will spare your mod
esty as much as possible. Last Sum
mer you all recollect I was on the wing
frequently, after the rest of you had
located for the season. During my
excursions among the mountains, I
met with a great many South Caroli
nians. Os late years—ever, since they
took that crazy notion to dissolve the
union—they have gotten in the habit
of spending their summers m the
northern, part of Georgiy, instead of
going to Saratoga, Newport, <£k< 'ac
they used to do. I mean that a good
many do this—not all however. Well
I do not quarrel with them for 'this.
It is consistent at least.
Among these South Carolinians, I
can say I have met with some of na
tures noblemen. Some of the most
high-toned, refined and true hearted
men I have ever known. ] have
found their gentlemen . to be the very
soul of chivalry —in spite of the ridi
cule which has been attached to the
word by the conduct' of tlieir low-bred,
vulgar pretenders. But besides these
gentlemen —and too few of this kind
visit Georgia —whole swarms of low,
ignorant scamps, of snobbish, cod-fish
aristocrats, of arrogant, purse-proud
parvenues and Ui" • oqiiTeiirpsstoW g, v ■ ; ,,
pyisli idiots, infest the watering places
and summer retreats of our State, like
swarms of locusts.
“When Morton Devercux had ex
cited the anger of the Abbe Dubois,
the latter, when Morton next went, to
make his court to the priest, turning
his back upon him said : “The plagues
of Pharok are come again—only in
stead of Egyptian frogs in our cham
bers, we have the still more trouble
some guests —English adventurers.”—-
For the words “English adventurers,”
substitute the words, “South Carolina
snobs,” and we can very well apply
the sarcasm to these empty headed
swells.”
“Fiank,” interrupted Mr. Bentley?
at tliis point, with a sly smile, “are
you to tell us what happened with you
and Mr. Fitzwarren, or are you going to
forget all about *it, in. your tirade
against these etulti f To be serious
though, it is attaching too much im
portance to them, to waste so many
words upon them. They are only ob
jects of contempt.”
“I stand corrected,”’said Frank.—
[am using too many words concerning
them. But this much I must say—
that as the true gentlemen of South
Carolina stand pre-eminent among gen
tlemen, so their swell-heads and snobs
stand pre-eminent among people of
tlieir class. And lam Sony to add
that I think there is a greater propor
tion of the latter class in South Car
olina than in most southern states.-
The high position occupied by their
men of refinement, seems to delude
them into the belief that the very
name of South Carolinian entitles
them to special deference and atten
tion.
But to proceed. I stopped for the,
night, on one occasion last 'summer, at
a tavern in a small village among the
h'ITMtO(;T M'lftn, iVifOCl Oii jmJtTRW”
| mountains, where there was not a sin
i gle man I had 'ever seen 'before. At
the same house where I stopped them
was a party of some half dozen of
the sub stratum class I mentioned.
They were sitting in the piazza of the
tavern when I arrived, smoking, and
conversing in a very loud consequen
tial manner. Seating myself on the
other side .of the piazza from them 1
took out, a Tewjqihper to while away
the time till' supper. Fol some mo
ments 1 paid but little attention to the
snobs, but finally they bjgan to in
dulge in witless sarcasm on Georgia
and Georgians. It soon beccine evi
dent from tl ieir manner, and till glances
they directed toward me, tint they
thought I was a Georgian, and that
their object was to insult avid annoy
me; thinking that as I wasaione and
I apparehtly a stranger, I would not dare
lo resent any thing they # migllt be pleas
ed to say. Perceiving thus, I rose and
walked overgo them and, with a low,
bow, and in my Blandest tone, said, j
“Gentlemen, I conclude, from the
significant .glances with which you
have honored me, that you intend the.
remarks in which you have indulged
to be an insult to me—thinking that I
am. a citizen of Georgia. Will you be
pleased to inform me whether or not
L . . f ,
I am correct in my surmise?”
To this, one of them replied, coolly
enough, and in a jeering tone:
“Really sir, I am at a loss to con
ceive by what right you ask the ques
tion. We have not, that lam aware,
addressed a single word to you, and
as you are an entire stranger to us,
it cannot he presumed that we knew
that anything we said would prove of
fensive to you,”
“Whatyou say wears some, appear
ance of plausibility,” said I in an
swer. “I will no + say what bad taste
and want of delicacy you display by
wm.igiKMjU,.-) ill-n; lured and would-be
witty remarks concerning a people in
the presence of one who is to! you. as
you say “an entire stranger”/and who
may by any possible chance 'belong to
the people you are undorratfeg. Waiv
ing all discussion, and to cut the mat
ter short, I will say that you did, by
your manner, give me reason to sup
pose you were offering me an insult,
and you gave me a ri lit to require at
your hands an avowal or disavowal of
an intention of this kind.”
“And suppose,” said their spokes
man, “that I should refuse an explan
tion ?”
“Then’’ said I, “I shall demand the
satisfaction due from one gentleman
to another—-that is, provided you are
■GygpTrbCi -VaaiL • I
“And suppose,” again answered the
snob, “that I should refuse to aj.low
you any satisfaction ?” \
“Then sir,” was mv reply, “I si all
be under the necessity of degrading
myself low enough to pull your nolb,
or strike you in the face.” \
“But have you a friend present ”
asked he.
“No, but I can procure one by noqr
to-morrow.”
“Yes but” said he, now perceiving
a way to escape from his dilemma. -
“ Yes,but if I meet you it must pet
this very evening, as I am compelled
to leave this place early to-morriw
morning.”
• I now lost my temper, and said to
him
“If you arc a gcntfefian. sir, you.
will wait a few hours in’ the morning
I y °
and give me a meeting. If you con
sent now, immediately, to do so, I yill
meet you as a gentleman. If on (lie
contrary, you refuse, it will prove taat
you are a cowardly scoundrel arid ho
gentleman; and I shall avenge mysilf
by knocking you down.”
This I was determined to do dud
then let them do their worst; fori I
was well armed-—travelling in the
mountains it’s bestyou know. While,
however, I was allowing the crave! a
short moment to decide, a gentleman
whom I had not perceived bffore,
stepped up and said, pouching .me on
the arm, \
“I happened to ste\ out into the
piazza j u§* as yon rose tNhddress this
party, and have every word
which has passed betvfeen you, al
though. I did not liea the remarks
which gave rise to tb controversy.
From your’manner and rearing, I per-,
eeive you are a genii man. I am a
Georgian, and my names Fitzwarren.
Ts you ‘will allow me o act as your
friend in this matter, I think I can ar
range it for you without your proceed
ing to the extreme measure you spoke
I of.” '
“All this he said iti that calm and
subdued but dear and firm tone
which I have since found to be char
acteristic of the man. ’ I believe if I.
had been blind, I should have been
convinced, by his. words an sound
■
gentleman, T immediately surrender
ed fny cause into his hands, with the
stipulation that I must have a meeting
or an ample apology, Fitzwarren was
referred, by snob to one of his friends,
with whom he retired. It required
but a few of his cool firm words to
bring the opposition to a decision.—
The matter had proceeded too fur for
an apology eyen from a coward; and
we met next morning and exchanged
shots. I put a bullet in Snob’s should
er—l did not care to hurt him much—
and came oil’ myself unscratchcd.”
“ You may be sure- I cultivated
an acquaintance so well begun, and
Eitzwarren and I travelled together
several weeks. On parting with him
t begged him to visit me atßentwold;
but do you think he wasn't going to
leave St. A to-morrow morning
without even leaing me know he was j
in our vicinity ? Fortunately, in look- ;
ing idly over the hotel register, I saw
his name and almost dragged him
'home with me.”
' During most of this recital, Fit a war-'
rpnwas abstractedly sipping his tea, qr
dallying with his toast. He seemed
scjarceL conscious that any one was
sfcaking except occasionally, when
solmetlfing was said in his praise, when
Lis faint smile of mingled melancholy
a/id bitterness would flit over his fea
tures, and then his abstracted manner
would come back again. When the
recital whs ended, iie looked enquir
ed waM Mr. Bentjy, who said.
“You merit our grutit for what
you did sir, and I should have regret
ted extremely if' you had not allowed
us an opportunity to display it.”
Fitwarren bowed, and turning to
ward Mrs. Bently, in a tone deep and
grave, and altogether different from
his ordinary refined and conventional
accents, said,
I felt assured that the
father oi such a son as yours, would
thank me for the part I acted. But in
your eyes and those of Miss Bentley, I
fear that this recital has lowered me,
as much as it elevated me, in the opin
ion of Mr. Bentley.”
“X on acted, I suppose,” began Mrs.
Bentley, “from a noble impulse ; and
-W'huimlse. madam,” interrupted
Fitzwarren. “I acted from muug xn
tablished principle of conduct : and
one which I think I can support with
argument; though this is not the place
or the time for it. Y r ou have your
own views on this point, and it is by
them I must stand or fail, in your es
timation. But I humbly beg your
pardon for interrupting you. Please
say on.”
“If you had persuaded my son to
fight a duel against liis inclination or
judgment, then—excuse my candor—
I should hate you. As you assisted
him in carrying out an intention lie had
already formed—and as it was one
which he and you and Mr. Bentley
consider a justifiable one, however
much I may differ with you in opinion,
I am bound to thank you for the as
sistance you rendered him.”
As ‘She finished, Fitzwarren turned
to Helen and said,
“And you Miss Bentley—has your
brother’s recital lost me your good
opinion ? ”
As lie spoke, with Helen’s dark eye
bent full upon him, in spite of his hab
it of severe self-control, he could not
avoid a slight tremor in his voice—so
slight that it was uuperceived by all—
save, perhaps, Helen, with her wo
man’s instinct. She answered, and the
answer Was like balm to him.
“My mother has expressed my feel
ings exactly ; and I must add my
thanks to hers. But oh ! brother,” she
'added, turning to Frank, “I know you
do not fear man, and I should despise
you If I did; but do you not fear the
demon remorse.?.. Suppose you had
killed that man 1”
“Kill him ?” said Frank. “I had no
more klerfof killing him, after we had
agreed to meet like gentlemen, than
I had of killing you, at this moment.”
“Shoot at a man and have no idea
of killing him ?” said Helen in surprise.
“Exactly so.”
“ And suppose,” rejoined. Helen,
“you had killed him accidently ?”
“No danger of that,” said Frafilc.—
“I can handle a pistol- too well, for
that.”
“You were right Frank,” said his
father. “We should not attempt the
itferof tr~Mfow‘man' ott • emff but rk
gravest pretexts. At the same time,
the puppy deserved punishment. ’
“But think,” said Mrs. Bentley, “of
the risk Frank ran of being killed him
self.”
’ “That I was willing to do” 'said
Frank. “Os course there -is some risk
in all duels. But there is no more,
j where you are well acquainted with
1 the use of the pistol, than there is in
mouutinsr horse-back. -for. instance.
“Oh you are mistaken Frank.”
“No lam not. At least, thete is as
much- danger in riding over some of
| the gullies and down some of the hills
j I have seen you and Helen rido over.
Suppose your horse were to fall in
going down Wild-fire hill ? ’
“I should think though” said Helen,
“that where your antagonist fired very
quick, even if. you were the best shot,
I you might be killed, before you had
\ time to lire,”
“Perhaps so,” said -'Frank, “but 1
fire quick myself. My motto is “fire
quick and trust to fortune.”
“Come” said Mr. Bentley, “You la
| dies know nothing of these things, let
us adjourn to the parlor.”
They all left the supper-room. They
spent an hour or two in conversation,
and in listening to Helen's mnsic--for
she was a musician, by nature.' Fitz
warren, though not a performer on any
instrument, was a passionate lover of
music, and was capable of appreciating
it when it was good. While in the
draw inn-room, the. organ-like tones ftf
a magnificefit ffiano had accohipaiueu -
Helen’s voice, but the whole party fi
nally went into the collonnade. Here
Frank produced a guitar, ion which he
had learned to play 1 , and lie, and his
father, and Helen sang some ol Moore’s
delicious melodies. They sang them,
in spite ol the fact that they had gone
out of date, because they considered
them pretty. The three possessed fine
voices, and they, and the tinkling of
the guitar, echoing through the grove,
almost induced Fitzwarren to foi/get his
melancholy ; and lie went to his room
that night with feelings more pleasant
than he had known for many a long
day; and a letter ho received next
morning added to his pleasant feelings.
It happened in this way. When he
descended to breakfast, at rather a late
-itwiii fie louiiu, ■tying by
his plate two letters. A boy went
early every morning to bring letters
and papers from St. A- ; and that
morning Fitwarren’s name had been
added to the list of those whose letters
were to be sent to Bentwold. He
found the family, at the breakfast ta
ble reading newspapers, &c., and as he
came in Mr. Bentley said,
“Good morning Mr. Fitzwarren.—
There are two letters for you, which
you will open without ceremony, while
we are engaged in our own reading.”
Fitzwarren broke the seal of the
first, and his brow grew dark on read
ing it. The reading of the second caus
ed liis brow to clear up, and when Mr.
Bentley was through with his paper,
he said to him,
“I fear I shall have to trespass on
your hospitality longer than I at first
anticipated. The business which was
to have cabled me away is settled.”
“I am right glad of it,” said his host,
“You could hardly have made an an
nouncement which would please me
better.”
“We’ll have a glorious time” ; said
Frank. “I must make you know
some of the greatest girls you ever
met.”
“Yes, and better than that;’-’ said
Mr. Bentley, “you need not fear that
cough to which you alluded last night,
so long as you remain in this climate.”
“You do not know how long I have
been troubled with it Mr. Bentley,”
auswered the guest, in his calm, gentle
tone. Why, I am almost a confirmed
consumptive.”
“Hardly so bad as that yet, I hope.
I dabbled.a little in the study of the
Esculapian art in niy young days, and
learned something of the nature of
consumption. Yours cannot be auy-
[TERMS, $2,00 a YEAR
✓
NUMBER 23-
I thing - like a confirmed case of this dis
| ease.”
“Well,” answered Fitz warren, “sup*
I pose it is not. It is at least beyond
the influence of climate.”
; “Give me leave to differ with you. —•
I I have had an opportunity of observ
! ing the progress of eases worse than
yours; and have seen them cured
:
; in’glv, blit Mr. Bentley continued,
“h.speak sincerely when I say that
if you would sp-nd a winter with us,
j the climate, and the exercise you would
!be compelled to take to be sociable,
would cure you.”
.“I am not very easily convinced,
'tfhea I know a thing so well,” said
; Fitzwarran; and observing a sympath-
I izing glance rest on him from all, his
! strange pride r<:\ ■ -,L at it, and ■he
continued, . -
“I must not allow my complainings
I to engross your attention. It was
very wrong in me to qieak of myself
as an invalid, as 1 did last night, and
I promise not to offend again. Pray,
Miss Bentley, what ladies were those
you were expecting next week ?”
And thus he turned the conversation
from himself, and smothered in his own
breast the melancholy feelings which
were preying upon him—hiding them
'from the eyes of his kind hosts. His
question to Helen was put in a tono of
gaiety that surprised, her. However,
she answered in a tone equally gay,
“Well there is, to begin with Mrs.
Holmes, a gay dashing widow —tall,
graceful and commanding as a queen.
She is not more than twenty-five, years
of-ago cither, if she is a widow.—
Then there; is Miss Morton, a quiet,
pensive, and exceedingly lovely girl.
And Miss Laura Banks, the most live
ly fascinating and mischievous Hebe
vou ever saw. Besides there is- 1 —”
“Angels'of goodness!” exclaimed
1 "*\V riyfc ■ t iitiir-w • watg-
So mhViy htid such fascinating ladies
to beseige qnly two bashful youths!”
“Oh! you must not flatter yourself
that you will have no more formidable
rival than this brother of mine.”
“Why, what other shall I have? ’
“We expect, according, to father’s
account, some exceedingly gallant cav
aliers ; but as to the peculiar excellence
of each, Lam rather in the dark.”
“She knows ’em all, wull enough,
here broke in Harry, “but some of
’em arc her beaux and she’s ashamed
to say much about ’em.”
“Henry is angry,” said Helen, “be
came I did not include him in the .
list of rivals,' Mr. -Fitzwarran has to
fear.” '
"Yes, 2 ’ said Mis. Bentley, “we all
know Henry .itLLss.Alortou..as.
iiis own sweetheart?' . * "‘.l"
“La. mother, I don’t,” *exciaimed
Harry in the utmost confusion.
“It seems to me,” said Frank, “that
Harry is not the only jealous person
age present at this time.”
“Ah!” said Helen, well knowing!
what he meant, “Pray explain, Mr. £
Frank.”
“Why hare you hot failed t-6 men
tion the most lovely lady you are ex
pecting? What but jealousy could
have induced you to leave out of your
list the modest, the beautiful, the wild,
the dignified, the mischievous, jj|Q
kind-hearted, the merry, the passive,
the reserved, the fascinating 1 Hate
Morgan ?
“Why a desire to-■'heal a raphsody
from you, induced mc.’^p| v
“Perhaps you ma|j|'know some of
the expected guests,pur. Fitzwarren,"
said Frank, sud<g|ly changing tlie
subject.” \wtjkg .
“I have nipt MimpklincP,” was the
answer. t
“Well, pcwhaJfyou know Charley
Hampton, or Blly Morton, or Jack
Harper?”
“I havc. no acquaintance with them,”
answered Fitzwarrep. I have fre
quently heard Mr. ITanipton spoken of
■though.” ■ JSfca,,,,
“Well, you must get lie M sketch
them for you: but I believe
ready declined the task. AY
er says . Jack Ilarpor is a jolly tiJpK
somewhat refined and exceedingly alt u
complished, nevertheless.''’ M
“Pes,” said Mr. Bentley, ®
great singer, and plays on the gfttar. ’
“So be it,” said Frank “ThenUfcere
is William- Pitt Morton, who, iufete'<
of his high-sounding name, is a clojtt
.good-hearted fellovv.- Oharl'ey UarfSflit